


At the Drive-Thru

by groaninlynch (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Gen, M/M, Pack Feels, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late one Saturday night, a Jeep full of werewolves and one human pulls into the KFC drive-thru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Drive-Thru

**Author's Note:**

> because inspiration hits you in the randomest of ways sometimes.

WORKER: Good evening, may I take your order?

STILES: Hi, just a minute, please and thank you.  _(Turns in his seat, the chair groaning under his shifting weight.)_  What do you guys want?

ERICA: Chicken.

STILES: Uh, okay, good thing we're at a chicken joint. Care to be more specific?

ERICA: Grilled.

ISAAC: No, not grilled, crispy. Extra crispy. 

ERICA: Crisping it completely defeats the purpose.

BOYD: How?

ERICA: Chicken is supposed to be  _tender._  And  _rippable._ It doesn't make sense for it to be all crunchy.

ISAAC:  _(brow furrows)_  It adds texture.

ERICA: You're an idiot. Stop talking.

DEREK: _Erica._

ERICA:  _(slouches in seat, crosses arms)_

STILES: We'll get both, okay.

BOYD: I want mac and cheese.

ISAAC: And can we get those potato wedges? Like, a lot of them?

STILES: Mac and cheese and like-a-lot of potato wedges. Noted.  _(He turns body to look at Derek, who is sitting in the passenger seat with his arms crossed and a grumpy face.)_  Whaddya want, Sourwolf?

DEREK: For you to stop calling me that.

STILES: How many times do I ha--

ERICA:  _(cuts in)_  Can you guys  _not_  have a freaking lover's quarrel with us in the car?

STILES:  _(rolls eyes)_  Anyway?

DEREK: I'm fine.

STILES: Fine. Uh-huh. Alright, I'm getting you a whole bucket just for you.

DEREK: Stiles.

STILES:  _(He puts his hand up to silence the Alpha and his unwanted moodiness, who slouches in his chair much like Erica had.)_  We can get two drinks.

BOYD: Mountain Dew and lemonade.

ERICA: Ugh, you are so boring.

BOYD: Excuse you? What are you gonna say, iced tea and Pepsi?

ERICA: What's wrong with iced tea and Pepsi?

BOYD:  _(raises eyebrows and purses lips, incredulous)_

STILES: Nevermind, forget it, I'm making executive decision on the drinks. Fruit punch and root beer.

ERICA AND BOYD: What!

WORKER: Sir?

STILES:  _(twists in seat to lean out window; in most cheery, non-stressed voice:)_  Just a moment!

BOYD: Why?

STILES:  _(turns to the back seat again)_  Because fruit punch is awesome and root beer is Derek's favorite. Now shh.  _(settles properly into the driver's seat, once again leaning out the window)_  Okay, I'm ready now.

WORKER: What'll it be?

STILES: Alright, one of those split bucket things with half grilled and half crispy--

ISAAC:  _Extra_  crispy.

STILES: --Half  _extra_  crispy chicken, okay, and uh, another one with just grilled, and a big thing of mac and cheese, and like-a-lot of potato wedges, and a fruit punch and a root beer.

WORKER: What size for the drinks, sir?

STILES: Big as they can be.

BOYD:  _(mumbles)_  I still want lemonade. 

STILES:  _(turns around, hisses:)_  We'll stop at Walgreens and get you a freaking lemonade, Boyd! Hush!

WORKER: Will that be all?

STILES: Yes, that's all, please tell me how many of my limbs I'll be selling to pay for this.

_(There is a pause that is slight but still lengthy enough to be noticeable.)_

WORKER: Your total is 76.89--

STILES: Holy  _god_.

WORKER: --Please pull up to the window. Thank you.

STILES:  _(shifting the gear from park to drive, mumbles:)_  Yeah, thank  _yourself._

BOYD: That doesn't make any sense.

STILES:  _You_  don't make any sense. 

_(The Jeep stops at the first window, which is promptly opened by a petite blond wearing a headset and black t-shirt with the KFC logo on the breast, a nameplate marking her as JULIETTE pinned to the fabric.)_

JULIETTE: Your total is 76.89.

STILES: Yeah, one sec.  _(Begins to dig through his pockets in search of his wallet that he hopes still has that 100-dollar bill in it from the bet he'd won against Scott last week concerning the donkey and the lake.)_

DEREK: Here.  _(Using his massive wing-span, he somehow manages to get his credit card to Juliette, who is momentarily as distracted by his arm muscles as Stiles is.)_

JULIETTE: Thank you.  _(She slides Derek's card through the machine before handing it to Stiles.)_  Please pull up and park in one of the designated spots on the curb. Your food will be out to you shortly. 

_(Stiles flashes Juliette a smile before driving into one of the spaces she'd mentioned, putting the Jeep in park, turning off the engine. He then turns to Derek.)_

STILES: You are my hero. I could kiss you. In fact, I  _will_  kiss you.  _(He takes Derek's face in his hands and leans forward, pressing his lips to Derek's, who responds in kind.)_

_(There is a chorus of eww'ing from the back seat.)_

DEREK: I'll be exacting my repayment later tonight.

STILES: Oh ho ho.  _(lightly hits Derek's cheeks before pulling his hands away)_

ERICA: Ugh, parent sex. TMI-much?

_(A knock on the side of the Jeep distracts Stiles from responding. Outside, a tired-looking young man in the same KFC shirt Juliette had been wearing stands with two plastic bag and a drink carrier. His nameplate says RON.)_

RON: You order two buckets, two drinks, a tub of mac'n'cheese, and some wedges?

STILES: Why yes I did. 

_(Stiles accepts the items one at a time, handing them into the back seat.)_

RON: You got an army to feed or somethin'?

STILES:  _(laughs)_  More like a pack of starving dogs.  _(Someone, most likely Erica, flicks Stiles behind his ear, eliciting a soft yelp of pain.)_

RON: Oh. Well, y'all have yourselves a good night.  _(He walks back into the restaurant.)_

STILES: Don't start eating yet. This car is full of enough shit.

(Stiles turns the Jeep back on, the engine growling loudly.)

BOYD: Can we go to Walgreens now?

STILES: Yes, Boyd, we can go to Walgreens now.

_(Stiles pulls the Jeep onto the street and they drive off into the night.)_


End file.
